Darkest Before the Dawn
by Anthrdumblond
Summary: A year and a half ago, G and Reagan, had locked Reiss behind the bars of GITMO. They believed she would now be safe, but they forgot that safety, in their world, is only an illusion. With one act, their world spirals out of control & they need to use all of their resources, no matter the consequence, to find the other alive. Sequel to Just Another Name llen/OC/Team


**REPOSTING THIS CHAPTER BECAUSE AN INTEGRAL PART OF THE DOCTORS EXPLANATION OF REAGAN'S INJURIES WAS LEFT OUT**

_**Well, I'm back, and so are G and Reagan! I've taken some time off after starting a new job, and my son heading to Kindergarten last fall. Not only did I not have the time to write, but apparently Reagan decided she needed a break after Just Another Name. I'm sure we can all find it in our hearts to forgive her, just a little. I, on the other hand, haven't and will be putting her through the wringer for her silence. ;D Please remember, there will be adult situations within some chapters but I will warn you before hand incase you do not want to read. My story's stay at a T rating so please read the A/N to see if any sections will be bumped up to an M for adult content. (I DO NOT write porn, and any scene's of a sexual nature, are come about through the natural flow of the story and are tastefully handled. If you do not choose to read those sections, I respect your decision and hope that will not deter you from reading the story as a whole.)_

_That said, there are some adult situations in this chapter, although nothing explicit is presented. If you have read my story __Just Another Name__, you will know how these scenes are handled and if you have not, then I would recommended you take a stab at it, as this is a sequel and the storyline builds upon the first. There will be characters and situations brought up that were introduced in __Just Another Name__, and I do not want first time readers to be lost and confused. Another note, the DC team will be making a little appearance (Reagan is Gibb's adopted niece {see __Just Another Name__- Ch 11}), and some of the H5-0 team will be making an appearance (Reagan spent some time with them before coming to OSP {see __Just Another Name_ _- Ch16}). I just want everyone to come into this story with open eyes, knowing what they are in for._

_Well, I'm sure there are one million things that I'm forgetting to tell you, but I guess they will have to wait for Chapter Two (if I remember them). I do not own NCIS:LA, but Reagan and all other characters are mine and are the sole property of me and my lovely little plot bunnies who are always making someone new pop up, telling me, "But we need him/her to move the story along!" :$ So please enjoy, and let me know your thoughts. Your reviews are a writer's lifeline! _

_PS- please forgive any mistakes, as I am sole editor of this story and do not have a beta, but if any of you know of one who might be willing to take me on I would be eternally grateful! xD_

**This is the end, Hold your breath and count to ten  
Feel the earth move and then, Hear my heart burst again**

**For this is the end, I've drowned and dreamt this moment  
So overdue I owe them, Swept away, I'm stolen**

**Let the sky fall, When it crumbles  
We will stand tall, Face it all together**

**Skyfall::Adele**

::Chapter One::

_North Island, Seychelles, Indian Ocean_

Her long limbs felt glorious, basking in the warm sun. There were no sounds but the far off scream of the gulls, and the azure waves rolling onto the white shore. The palm fronds rustled in the slight breeze, and she heard him roll over next to her. Digging her perfectly manicured toes into the satin sand, a smile formed on her full lips, as she thought about her life only a year ago. The life she was living now, barely resembled the one she had left behind in that warehouse in New Jersey, and for that she was both grateful and wary. She was not use to this idyllic life, and was still afraid that it could be snatched away from her, in a heartbeat. It was not often she dwelt on the past any more, her future was spread before her, shining brightly in the golden light, instead of being hidden in the dark gloaming of despair.

A soft sigh slipped from her, as his large hand reached out and gently caressed the silken skin of her narrow rib cage. She slowly turned her head to the right, and looked over at him, her smile deepening. What she had done in her life to deserve him, she didn't know, but she refused to tempt fate by asking.

"What are you thinking right now," he asked her softly, while propping himself up on his elbow to study her face.

She smiled, and closed her eyes again, turning her face back to the warmth of the sun overhead. This was a game they had started playing, after she had returned from her six month _forced_ recovery in D.C, with her 'Uncle' Jethro. They had both been so use to keeping secrets, so used to hiding behind false facades, that they had made the decision to ask each other, when they really wanted to know the truth, that question. There were rules though. And there was no question about following them.

The person asking, could only ask once a day. The person asked, _must _answer honestly, as to what they were thinking, in that exact moment. And lastly, the person asking, could not get upset at the answer given, no matter what the answer was.

This had not been easy, for either one of them. They had both lived their lives keeping secrets, in order to stay alive. But over time, they had both learned to let go of the restraints, and share bits of themselves with the other.

Opening her eyes, she stared up at the sky for a minute, still not answering him. It was hard to bring up those memories. She knew how much that time had hurt both of them. Licking her slightly parched lips, she took a deep breath.

"I was thinking about how different my life is now, than it was a year ago."

He was quiet for a moment, his hand absently tracing patterns on her abdomen. At his silence, she turned her head to him. Watching the emotions play across his features, she wished she hadn't agreed to the promise she had made. She always felt that her answers hurt him in some way, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. She had caused him enough pain, for a lifetime of hurt in the past year.

"And how do you feel about this new life?" he asked tentatively.

Her smile widened. He was still always wary when it came to her happiness. Before they had taken down Reiss, she had been afraid to accept any happiness in her life, always certain that it would be ripped from her by the government that had created her. She had tried to keep her distance from Callen, failing miserably and only causing them both heartache in the process. But now, with Reiss interred in a permanent home at GITMO, her parents murders solved and the new forgiveness she had found within herself, her outlook on life, and love, were very different.

"Do you remember that night we spent by the pool, about a month after I had come to OSP?" she asked him.

"Answering a question with another question? Are you trying to evade?"

She laughed, "Are you?"

He chuckled and snaked his arm around her waist, rolling to his back and pulling her on top of him. She snuggled into his embrace for a moment, before straddling his waist and sitting up.

"Do you?" she asked again.

"Remind me again?" he smiled wickedly, knowing full well what she was talking about.

Leaning down, molding her lithe body to his hard one, her lips hovered a hair's breadth above his. Her tongue darted out licking her lips again, although this time it wasn't because they were dry. She could feel his heartbeat quicken, beneath the hard muscle of his chest, and she reveled slightly in the fact that she could bring the ever stoic G. Callen to this roil of emotions.

"You came to my hotel room, and asked me to have drinks with you," she said softly, her voice slightly husky.

His summer blue eyes looked into her cerulean ones, and she could see the lust burning there. Part of her wanted to make him sweat, and another part of her simply wanted to forget the game and indulge in everything those eyes were offering. But for Reagan, there was no fun in giving in so easily. To her, it was the chase that was the most satisfying, the buildup of all the tension and angst. To give in too quickly, would be anticlimactic. To drag it out too long, would simply be teasing. And he was so very good at playing the game.

"I vaguely remember something like that," he teased, enjoying the game.

With a smile she brushed her moist lips across his, barely making contact, "We played 20 questions while drinking tequila," she added a bit more.

This time he shook his head, "It's not really coming back to me... perhaps a little bit more..." his full lips were smiling at her.

She smiled back wickedly, brushing her lips along his jaw, her hair falling over her shoulder like a silken curtain of sunlight, until she came to his ear where her teeth scraped and tugged on his earlobe. With h

er breath warm against the shell of his ear, he shivered slightly. Her sinful chuckle rolled through their bodies.

"It was the first time you kissed me," she whispered softly.

A small moan came from the back of his throat, as his hands caressed her slender back and her round bottom, "Now _that_, I remember," his lips found the sensitive spot just behind her ear.

Closing her eyes, she tried to remember just where this conversation was going and fought with herself as she tried to decide if it was worth pursuing. As his tongue swirled against the delicate skin, Reagan did her best to keep her head clear, but she knew she was losing the battle. Finally giving up and turning her head to find his lips, she moaned softly, only to find herself rolled quickly onto her back, with Callen over her, holding her hands hostage above her head. His larger body was stretched on top of her, and the skin to skin contact was causing heat to pool low in her belly.

"So, what was it you asked me that night?" he asked, smiling devilishly at her.

She tried to focus her passion glazed eyes on his face, and tried again to remember what she had been saying. She opened her mouth to speak, only to be at a loss for words. He was the only man that had ever been able to make her forget herself; to make her lose all rational thought and to run solely on emotions.

"I... we..." closing her eyes, she tried to focus on that night.

Once the distraction of G was taken out of the equation, she easily brought the night in question back into her mind. Having hyperthymesia allowed her to remember every moment of any autobiographical information in her life, so to remember the night G had first kissed her was not a problem.

_Tipping back the glass again, she realized it was empty and signaled the waiter for another round. Leaning her arm on the back of the couch, she rested her head in her hand and smiled at Callen, "Okay, if you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?"_

_Without thinking he just answered, "Home."_

_Reagan looked at him, curious, "And where is that?"_

"_Don't know, I haven't found it yet," he answered, looking directly into her eyes._

"_Mmm, me either," she agreed, her sooty lashes brushing her pinkened cheeks as she looked down._

"If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go? The question I asked you that night... do you remember what you said?" she whispered, trying to concentrate as he ran his hands from her waist to her ribs, sliding his thumbs just under the string of her top and gently caressing the underside of her breasts.

"I remember that... I said I would go home," he said, nodding.

"And when I asked you where that was, you told me you hadn't found it yet," she went on.

"Mmm hmm."

"And I agreed with you, that I hadn't found it either."

He finally stopped moving his hands and then moved off of her, to lay next to her, taking her into his arms.

"I remember," he said softly, "Why."

"Because..." she started, then stopped.

He waited a moment and when she didn't answer he prodded, "Reagan, what's wrong?"

She didn't answer right away.

"Rae... tell me."

She finally looked at him and he could see tears glittering in her eyes, something he had only seen one other time, and under circumstances so extreme he began to panic.

"Ask me again," she whispered.

"What? Ask you what again? Are you alright?"

"Your question... from before... ask me again."

He thought for a moment and then it came to him, "How do you feel, about this new life?"

A small smile formed on her full lips, "Like I've come home."

It was whispered against his neck, as she buried her face there, but he heard her, and his heart swelled at the words. His hands found the side of her face and lifted it so he could look at her. After staring a moment deep into her eyes, he smiled softly at her, placing a kiss on her lips.

"Me too," he whispered.

The soft smile that transformed her face from apprehensive to content squeezed at his heart, and was more than he could ever ask for. She placed her lips on his and the kiss she gave him was searing. As her mouth moved against his, and her hands explored his barely clad body, all thought for anything but him left her mind and their idyllic beach day turned into a passionate afternoon spent in each other's arms.

* * *

He awoke to an empty bed. Shifting slightly, he glanced around the darkened room, searching in the dim light for where she had disappeared to. He found, her standing at the window, a slender arm holding the room darkening drapery aside, while she looked out over their little piece of paradise. She stood there, bathed in the golden glow of the sun, her naked form, illuminated as if she were not truly of this world. A small smile formed on his lips; there were many times he believed this to be true. Sliding from the tangled sheets, he silently moved to where she stood. Coming up behind her, he placed a hand on her shoulder, brushing his thumb over the smooth skin, and ducked his head to lay his lips at the juncture where her slender neck and shoulder met.

She smiled and bent her head slightly, giving him more room to trail kisses along the column of satin skin. Turning into him she laid her head on his chest and sighed softly.

"You left," he stated.

"I was restless. I didn't want to wake you," she lifted her face and brushed her lips along his bristled jaw line.

"You know I don't care," he answered, placing his lips upon her forehead.

She smiled before she spoke. "I know... but I do. Besides, with me keeping you up, late into the night, you need your beauty sleep," she teased.

She could feel his chuckle, rumble though his chest.

"Dreams?" he asked, rubbing circles on her back.

Shaking her head, she answered, "No."

She didn't elaborate, but he watched as she gently rubbed her wrist with her free hand. The scars stood out pink against the golden tan of her skin. They were the last visual reminder of the horror they had gone through only a year and a half before, and he knew they bothered her more than any scar she had received through her 16 years of being an assassin. To her, they represented the only time she was powerless; the only time she could do nothing to save herself or those she loved. And he knew, that was something that didn't sit well with her. Gently he captured her one wrist and glided his thumb over the still tender scar.

"Do they still hurt?" he whispered, as his other arm pulled her close.

She remained silent, with her gaze trained out of the window. He knew by now not to push. She still needed time to heal from the things that had been done to her, and she needed him to be that rock upon which she leaned.

"Sometimes," she whispered.

"The pain will go away eventually," he knew his words sounded weak.

Sliding her hand away from him she turned and leaned her back against his chest, "But these will never go away." She held her arms out, allowing them both to see her wrists.

Dropping her arms, she stepped away from him to pull back the sheers, and look out over the pristine beach. Leaning, her arm above her head, and her forehead against the cool glass, her eyes stared out over the stunning landscape, but he was sure she was not seeing any of it.

"Tell me," he said, reaching out to capture her free hand.

She looked back at him, then down at their joined hands, and returned to the view. She knew that he was breaking the rules by asking that question twice in one day, but she ignored the fact, gave his hand a squeeze and answered him.

"There's a storm coming," she said cryptically, and walked away from the window.

Frowning, G glanced out the window only seeing wispy clouds, the blue sky, and the setting sun. Following her to the bed where she sat, he climbed next to her, wrapping himself around her like a shield. He knew she was still fighting demons from what had happened, and at times closed herself off from everything emotionally, but she had also come so far and opened herself up to him so much that he was able to deal with those times that were now few and far between.

She sat between his curled legs, her body curled into his chest and her arms wrapped around his waist. He held her close, his face pressed into her fragrant hair. She had changed her shampoo to something floral and fruity, reminding him of his short time spent in Hawaii. Plumeria, he thought, with a smile hidden by the abundance of blonde tresses. They sat silently for a while before he felt the need to speak.

"There is always a storm coming in our line of work," he spoke softly.

"This is... something else. I don't know how I know, but something is... wrong."

"So now we are adding psychic to your long list of attributes?" he joked.

With a smile, she gently punched him, "Very funny. You taking lessons from Deeks?"

G chuckled, "If that were the case, my jokes would be far less funny, and earn me a lot more bruises."

Reagan giggled then, squeezing him tightly, "Touché!"

As she settled into his arms, her smile fell and she absently ran her forefinger up and down the inside of his arm. Taking his hand, he brushed her hair back from her face and placed a soft kiss at her temple. As much as he enjoyed having her all to himself, he began to think it was time for them to return home.

"Are you telling me you want to go home?" he whispered, his lips pressed against her hairline.

She shook her head, stopping abruptly, and then slowly nodded, "But I shouldn't be... I should be focused on this, on us... shouldn't I?"

He smiled and shook his head, "Reagan, we have time to focus on us. If you have a bad vibe then let's head home, and put you at ease. Besides we have been off the grid for 4 weeks. I'm sure your 'uncle' would like to know you're alive."

"You don't mind?" she asked, not really believing anyone could be so understanding.

"Of course not, if it puts your fears at ease, then that's all that matters. Trust me... we have the rest of our lives to enjoy being secreted away on a tropical island. Besides, eventually they will begin to wear on you, and you'll be crying to come back here for some peace and quiet," he joked.

Laughing she pushed him down on the bed, sliding her toned body against his, "Well, if we're going to be headed home, we might as well make the best of the few hours we have left."

Her mouth came down on his, and as her tongue swept inside his mouth, she slid down, enveloping him in molten heat. All thought ceased as they found their rhythm, and finally, when the world around her shattered into a million pieces, she let go and let herself fall, knowing he would be there to catch her when it was over. With a deep sigh she snuggled into his arms, her lips resting on the pounding pulse at his throat. As her eyes grew heavy with contented sleep she curled herself around him and sighed again.

"I love you, G," she whispered.

Pulling her close, he laid his lips on her forehead, "I love _you_, Rae."

With a last deep sigh, sleep overcame her and she fell into a contented, dreamless slumber. G remained awake only slightly longer, still unable to fully comprehend that she was, in fact, actually there in his arms. There had been a time, when he thought this was just an insane dream he had conjured, and even now, waking up with her in his arms every morning, he still was unable to fathom that she was really there. With a stifled yawn, he pulled her slightly closer and closed his eyes to the waking world.

* * *

_Los Angeles, California_

"You don't understand... I need to know. I just have this uneasy feeling, and I can't shake it. These 'vibes', these 'bad feelings' are what helped me survive 16 years as an assassin," she explained from across the desk.

"Miss Faraday, just because you get a 'bad vibe' doesn't mean that I can magically get you that information. You know it's classified, and you know why it's classified. Favors will have to be called in, strings will have to be pulled, and for what? Your 'intuition? You were given an absolute pardon, you should know better than to push this issue," his voice was curt and final.

"Assistant Director Granger, all I want to know is that Reiss is truly behind bars at GITMO. I'm not asking for any more information than that. Please, don't dismiss this as a joke, or an over anxious woman. Trust me, it's not a joke, and I am the farthest thing from an over anxious woman, that you can get.

"I know you don't know me as well as the others..."

"I've read your file. I know who and _what _you are. I know what you've done and what you've been through. But that doesn't give you special leverage to get classified information just because you have a 'hunch'."

Reagan sighed through her nose, looking down at her hands that were clenched together in her lap, to keep her from reaching over the table and strangling the shit out of the little man with the big Napoleon complex.

"All I'm asking, is that you check. All I need from you is 'Everything is as it should be' and I'll back off. I don't want information. I don't care if he rots in that prison. I hope he gets exactly what he deserves," she finished vehemently.

"I can't make you any promises, Miss Faraday," he hedged.

Squeezing her hands tighter, she closed her eyes, and focused on the pain of her nails digging into her palm. She couldn't believe he was being so unreasonable. She hadn't wanted to believe that he was as bad as the team had told her but she was beginning to see what they had meant. Vance would have never waylaid her in this way. He would have agreed to the simple check, and never mentioned it again. But this was not Director Vance, and apparently what Granger said, was law around here now. She wondered how Hetty was taking this change of power.

"Hello, Miss Faraday! I did not expect you back for at least another week! You are looking lovely. I see the sun and sand agrees with you," the gravelly voice, that echoed across the Mission, was the sweetest thing she had ever heard at that moment.

Turning, she found Hetty moving up the steps into her office, and embracing her in a warm hug.

"We got back today," Reagan informed her, as Hetty moved to the chair Granger had quickly vacated.

Reagan made a mental note at that. Apparently, the diminutive woman was not allowing Granger to usurp her role as head of OSP. There must be some power struggle going on between the two of them, Reagan thought to herself.

"Today?!" Hetty looked her up and down, taking in the soft beachy waves of her hair, the floral tank top that hugged her curves and didn't quite meet the flowy white cotton skirt that hung to her feet from her slender hips, and the worn flip flops, "Why on earth are you here then?"

She watched as Hetty made herself comfortable and then sat back down herself, "I was asking a favor of Assistant Director Granger."

"And what was it that he denied you?" she folded her hands over her abdomen, and cast a glance at Granger.

Reagan tried to remain unsurprised by Hetty's deductive reasoning, as she began to explain, "I began to have this nagging feeling, that something was off at the beginning of the week. I tried to ignore it, telling myself it was just because I wasn't used to the quiet of this new life. I made up all kinds of excuses, as to why I was feeling anxious and jittery... but I just couldn't shake the feeling. I finally talked to G about it when he saw how off I was acting. It was his idea to come home. He felt that, if I could put myself at ease by making sure everything was alright, that it would go away.

"We contacted the team the minute we touched down, and everything was great with them. I called Gibbs, and he informed me that everything and everyone in DC is fine. But that nagging feeling hasn't gone away. I don't know what else to do. I ask Assistant Director Granger if he could make sure that Reiss was securely locked up in GITMO, just to ease my mind to that, and he informed me that it was classified, and that just because I had a 'hunch' didn't warrant him pulling strings to find that information out," she related calmly.

Taking a deep breath, Hetty glanced at Granger and then back at Reagan, "I see. Well seeing as Assistant Director Granger was not with us during the ordeal with Reiss, I will pardon his abrupt refusal of your favor. I, however, don't feel that it will be a problem to call in a few favors and make sure Reiss is where he belongs. Give me twenty-four hours or so to get back to you. As he said, all information on Reiss is classified and it will take a little maneuvering to get through the red tape that surrounds his files and and the man himself."

A smile broke over Reagan's features and her shoulders slumped slightly, "Thank you, Hetty. I know this is an unseemly request but I just need to know that everything is in order."

"Think nothing of it Reagan. Now, get yourself home, and get settled in. I'm sure you'll be having visitors this evening!"

"Thank you, and please stop by. It's nothing fancy, just some burgers and stuff, but everyone decided to come by, so we'd love to see you too!" she stood, feeling much lighter than she had when she had entered the building.

"I will, my dear. Shall I bring anything?"

"Just yourself, Hetty. Oh, and Assistant Director Granger," she glanced at him, "if he's free, of course."

Granger watched her as she hurried out of Hetty's office, and down the hall out of the Mission. Turning back to Hetty, he frowned.

"I already know what you are going to say, Owen, and yes, I went over your head on this one. After everything Reagan, and the team, has been through because of Reiss, I felt it was a small thing to reassure her that he was someplace where he cannot harm her, or those she loves anymore. So if you want to have a pissing contest on this point I promise you... I will win."

"He is locked up at GITMO. No one has ever escaped from there. There is no reason to reassure her on this point," he argued.

Hetty looked away from him, to where Reagan had disappeared from the building, "Perhaps not, but it never hurts to make sure. And one thing I've learned in my years as a Special Agent, and as the Operations Manager here at OSP... Never say never. You find when you do, that the impossible, becomes possible."

Rising, she picked up the scarf she had discarded on the back of her chair, and removed her purse from the bottom drawer of her desk, "I believe that I am going to get them a welcome home gift. Will I be seeing you this evening at the get together?"

"No, I have some _things_."

"Then I'll see you tomorrow. Enjoy your evening, Owen."

And with that she headed out of the building, her mind on just what bottle of liquor she was going to relinquish from her venerable cellars, to give to the newly arrived couple.

* * *

Stepping out of the car, into the California sunshine, Reagan seemed to glow with a light of her own. The breezy white sun dress barely skimmed her tanned thighs, while the sunshine fall of hair was lifted off of her shoulders in the breeze. The large round sunglasses concealed most of her face and a contented smile tilted up the corners of her mouth. She leaned back in the car window and lowered her glasses so G could see her eyes.

"I'm just going to run into the bakery, and pick up some dessert for tonight. Then, we can head to the butcher's, for the steaks. Do you think everyone will like steak? I was thinking grilled veggies and baked potatoes to go with dinner. What do you think? Should I do something else? I can make corn on the cob and roasted potatoes instead. And what about wine? Should we do a Sangria instead?"

"Rae, calm down. No one is going to care what they are eating. We're all just gonna enjoy hanging out together, and having some time together, outside of work. It's really not that big of a deal. They will eat anything you serve," he chuckled at her anxiety.

With a sigh she pushed her sunglasses back up her nose, "That really doesn't help me at all, G. Any suggestion for dessert?"

G shrugged, not wanting her to stress over this dinner she had planned for the team tonight, "Whatever you think everyone will enjoy."

She sighed, and then gave a short laugh, "Then we should have stopped at the supermarket and saved some money. I could have gotten Oreo's for Nell and Eric, Twinkies and HoHo's for Kensi and Deeks, and glazed donuts for Sam and you," Reagan joked as she winked at him and headed into the bakery across the street.

Inside, she picked a number of different pastries she thought would please everyone's palates, and then her favorite éclair as a treat. Holding the pink box by the white string the girl had wrapped it with, she waved goodbye and pushed open the door stepping back out into the gorgeous California afternoon. She spotted G waiting in the car across the street, and as she stepped to the curb, she lifted her free hand to wave, with a stunning smile that lit up her face.

Her waved turned to shade her eyes, from the glinting glare that was coming off of the high rise building a block away. Shielding her eyes she, looked over at the building curious as to what was so bright. Catching the glare again, she suddenly saw the silhouette sitting atop the roof, and what exactly the sun was glaring off of. She heard the shot a split second before it hit her, yet that split second was all she needed, to move just enough to have it miss it's intended target. The impact forced her body backwards, causing her to drop the bubblegum pink box in her hand. Her eyes widened and her pupils dilated, as she fell to the sidewalk. She could hear her breath coming out in short gasps, as she struggled to take in air. Everything was moving in slow motion. She could hear someone screaming close by her, and the pounding of boots on the pavement getting closer. She tried to push herself up from the ground, but found the feat nearly impossible. And suddenly he was there.

His grief stricken face loomed over her. His hands pushed her back down to the concrete and then pressed against her chest. He was screaming things at people around her, things she couldn't hear, through the pounding in her ears. And then he was speaking to her. She tried to listen, to make out his words through the pounding, but even for her superior hearing she struggled to hear him.

"Stay with me, Rae... come on baby, stay with me. Don't you dare close your eyes, Reagan. Come on baby, look at me, keep looking at me!"

His hand on her face felt surreal, and as she tried to focus on himk she realized that she was seeing everything in black and white. As she tried to listen to his words, she realized that everything was very clear and that although she couldn't lift herself from the pavement, she didn't feel any pain.

Looking away from G's face, to her prone body, she studied the red blossom on her dress. Fascinated, she moved to examine the dark hole with the nail of her index finger. Even that prodding caused no pain, which she simply accepted without question at that point. The sound of sirens coming from a distance and moving closer, had her looking back at Callen's face. She tried to speak only to cough and find liquid in her mouth. With a frown, she touched the moisture at her lips only to come away with crimson fingertips. At the sight, reality began to sink in.

"I'm shot," she finally gasped out.

"Shh, don't speak, Rae. Just lie still," G ordered gently.

"I... I'm... I'm sorry G," she struggled to hiss out.

As she began to lose consciousness, the edges of her vision began to darken and she struggled to speak again.

"_He_... found... me," was all she managed, before the darkness took her and she slipped away.

* * *

Sitting in the car, G, looked around, always on guard. It didn't matter that his life with Reagan had drastically calmed down since the deaths of the remaining Specimen, and Reiss's incarceration at GITMO; being on guard was something ingrained in him, from a childhood of fending for himself in and out of foster homes; from a lifetime of working for one covert government organization or another. As he looked back at the bakery, he watched Reagan open the door, looking back one last time to wave goodbye to the girl at the counter. Her smile was infectious, and something he cherished seeing.

There had been few reasons for her to smile in the short time they knew each other. Through everything they had been through in the past year; the secrets, the deception, the distance, they still somehow had managed to hold on to each other. He thanked a higher power everyday that she had been able to overcome what her life had been, what had happened, and welcomed him back with open arms. They were learning to accept their befores and working on creating new afters. They were working to build a relationship based on trust, something that neither of them were very good at. But to him, knowing that she wanted this as much as he did, had made it more important to him to give her a normal life, one that she had deserved from childhood.

As she glanced over at the car and gave him a sweet smile and a wave, he lifted his hand to wave back, with a smile he couldn't suppress. Before he could process what was happening, the world around him suddenly erupted into chaos. As he watched Reagan move, to cross the street, he heard the gunshot and watched as she crumpled to the sidewalk, the pink box of pastries smashing onto the street.

He felt as if time had slowed down, and he couldn't move fast enough to get to her. His hands fumbled with the door handle, as he seemed to trip over the edge of the car. He dodged passing vehicles, as he struggled to get across the street, to where she lay in a pool of her own blood. The girl, who had been at the counter in the bakery, had come out and was fluttering around crying, equal parts terrified, that Reagan was dead, and fascinated, that she had seen someone shot. Making her focus, he sent her inside to call 911, and then tried to focus on Reagan.

He pulled her into his arms, not caring that blood smeared his hands and arms as he did so. She moved slowly to look at him, as though it required a great effort for her to do so. As she struggled to speak, he could hear the wheezing, gurgle that told him she had been shot in the lung. He put pressure on the wound in her chest, trying to staunch the flow of blood that was seeping out of the bullet hole. He touched her throat and could barely feel a fluttery pulse, and his mind instinctively went back to the warehouse he had found her in, only a short year and a half ago, barely alive. His heart constricted, as the thought, that she was dying, crept unbidden into his mind. Next, the fear settled in. He couldn't lose her; not again, not forever. As that other time he had held her, in much the same way, flooded his mind, he found it hard to breathe.

_::Abandoned Warehouse, Newark, New Jersey::_

_G moved to the chair, kneeling at her side and yet not touching her. Her head dangled forward, her hair in dark, sweaty, limp strands, hung around her face and shoulders. He wanted to brush it away but was afraid of what he would find beneath. She didn't move or even twitch periodically, to give any indication that she was still alive. Her wrists were bloody from where the zip ties cut in to her skin while trying to get away. He didn't know what to do. He could see no rise and fall of her chest. _

_Disconnecting the jumper cables, he threw them as far as he could away from the chair. Pulling his knife from his pocket he opened it and made quick work of the ties on her wrists and ankles. He knew he had to do it, but his heart felt tight in his chest. Reaching out a shaking hand, he lay his fingers over her pulse point. His heart constricted even more and tears pricked the back of his eyes. He felt nothing. Applying more pressure to try again, he still felt nothing. And then suddenly it as there. The faintest flutter against his fingers but it was there._

_"She's alive!" he called to the others._

_Rising he took her face in his hands, finally brushing the hair away. The sight before his eyes stopped him short. Not only had they tortured her, they had beat her too. There was a bruise blossoming on her right cheek bone in bright colors of blue and purple. Her bottom lip was split and the blood that had seeped from the wound had crusted down her chin and throat. There was another bruise swollen on her left temple that had already moved from the blue and purple stage to greens and yellows. A cut across the right side of her forehead just above her brow was deep and not healed like the one on her lip._

_"Jesus Christ, Reagan, what the hell did you let them do to you?" he whispered, holding her face gently in his hands. _

_"Come on, Reagan, wake up! Wake up, Reagan! Come on, Rae, come on! Damn it, Reagan! Open your eyes!" his voice started out forceful and ended yelling and shaking her._

_He was trembling as he pulled her body out of the chair and into his lap. Deeks moved to take her, but the hand Sam put on his shoulder brought him up short._

_"Don't do it, Reagan! Don't you leave me again! Don't you dare die on me, Reagan! Don't go where I can't find you," he pleaded with her._

"Stay with me, Reagan. Don't you dare leave me. You hang on and stay with me," he found himself repeating similar haunting words, as he watched, in abject horror, his nightmare repeat itself in daylight.

But this time, it wasn't of her own doing. This time, the choice hadn't been hers. She had been ripped from him again, this time, by the designs of a madman. He could barely think as he pressed his hands against her, trying to prevent her life's blood from seeping out onto the dirty LA sidewalk. This couldn't be happening to him again. It was impossible that fate could be so cruel.

Just how many times would his life be turned upside down? How many times would he have to endure the loss of another loved one? And yet this was like nothing he had experienced before. Reagan, had come to mean more to him than anything he had ever imagined. She was his reason for being. To see her smile in the morning, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners, when she was truly happy. To watch her as she concentrated, always tucking that ever annoying strand of sunshine blonde behind her ear, as if it helped her to think better. To see her amazing cerulean eyes, darken with passion when he kissed her, the way she trusted him as she never trusted anyone before. To have her lithe body curled next to his at night, their limbs entwined in sleep. And those things were only the tip of the iceberg. Her mind, her strength, her friendship, her love... she was everything he had ever needed and had denied himself for so long.

And now, when he had finally had the courage to reach for that ever elusive happiness, it was torn from his hands. He never thought he had asked for much. He lived a simple life, with his few belongings, and his even fewer friends. He didn't want for much. Somewhere to rest his head at night, and a job he loved doing, was enough to sustain him. That was until Reagan had walked into OSP, and turned everything he thought he knew about himself upside down.

It had taken only one touch of her hand to hook him, and one look into his eyes to capture his heart, although he didn't realize it at first. No, that was a lie. He knew right away what was happening. He just blatantly chose to ignore it, hoping if he did, it wouldn't be real. But she had slipped between the chinks in his armor and wrapped her dainty, but deadly hands around his heart without so much as a warning. And that was a lie too. She had warned him. She had told him that she wasn't what he wanted or needed. She had told him that she was never meant for that kind of life.

"Stay with me, Rae... come on baby, stay with me. Don't you dare close your eyes, Reagan. Come on baby, look at me, keep looking at me!" he said forcefully, trying to will it to be true.

He watched as she looked at her chest, touching the red blossom that had appeared on her white dress. They teach you in elementary school that red and white make pink... her favorite color... But looking at her crimson stain on her, he realized that not everything they taught you in school was true.

As she tried to speak, a wet cough bubbled up, spraying more blood against her waxen skin and pale lips, and his heart squeezed at the sight. He watched as she frowned and touched the moisture at her lips only to come away with crimson fingertips. At the sight, he could feel the panic build in his chest. People survived this, he thought. You survived this. Then he saw the realization in her eyes, as they widened at the sight.

"I'm shot," she finally gasped out.

"Shh, don't speak, Rae. Just lie still," G ordered gently.

"I... I'm... I'm sorry, G," she struggled to hiss out.

As she began to lose consciousness, the panic turned to full on hysteria within him.

"_He_... found... me," was all she managed, before the darkness took her and she slipped away.

"NO! NO! REAGAN! Don't you leave me! Don't you dare leave me again!" he heard the words, as if coming from someone else.

Pulling her limp body to his chest, he buried his face in her hair, "I need you Reagan... I need you," he nearly broke.

And suddenly there were people around him, taking her from him, examining him and ushering him into the ambulance with Reagan's body, after he raved like a lunatic when they told him he couldn't go with her. The world spun around him, and yet he was no longer a part of it. His only thought was for the woman, being tended to on the gurney, next to him.

* * *

He stood at the closed door to the OR, and paced back and forth. The conversations going on around him, were just the angry buzz of insects, as he anxiously waited for some word on Reagan's condition. And then he overheard Tony's voice as he talked to Gibbs and McGee.

"We should have _never_ let her leave D.C. We should have kept her with us. This would never have happened," Tony bit out, as he gestured furiously at Gibbs.

Gibbs rocked from one foot to the other, his hands in the pockets of his jacket, "She wouldn't have stayed, Tony. Even I couldn't have gotten her to stay. What makes you think she would have stayed. You know Reagan, Tony, she doesn't take orders very well, especially when she thinks they are pointless."

"She would have stayed, if I had asked her too. I could have gotten her to stay. It would have been enough," his voice was apprehensive, as though he wasn't sure his words were true.

"Tony, no matter how much she cared about you, Reagan was never one to settle for enough," Gibbs said tiredly.

G finally spoke up, his anger overriding his usual stoic demeanor, "You give yourself a lot more credit than you deserve," he growled out, from behind the three men.

Tony turned slowly, the animosity radiating from him, "I would have protected her! I would have made sure she was safe! If she had been with me, she wouldn't have gotten shot!"

"Tony..." Gibbs warned.

Catching Tony's comment and seeing the rage bubble up in Callen, Sam made his way over and laid a hand on both men's chests.

"Not one of us could say that, DiNozzo. Reagan was not one to allow others to get hurt for her. She would never have accepted that outcome. Not one of us could have stopped what happened. There's no point in pointing fingers," Sam said, trying to calm the two men.

"Exactly," Gibbs agreed stepping in, "I didn't matter what coast she was on. Whomever sent this sniper, was going to find her, one way or another. And even if we had known of the threat on her life, Reagan would never have consented to remain hidden away, or to allow one of use to take the bullet for her."

At Gibbs' words Tony seemed to deflate and slowly walked away with McGee. After watching them move away to get some coffee, Gibbs turned back to Callen and Sam.

"This is not easy for any of us," he said heavily, to both men.

"You should have left those two back in DC," G grumbled, as he glanced at Tony and McGee.

Gibbs shook his head, "They are as much her family as all of you are. They have just as much right to be here as you do.

G remained mute, with anger flaming in the blue depths of his eyes, but Sam tried to sooth both parties, "I'm sure she would appreciate you all being here. I know her time in DC was very special to her, and your team became family to her while she was there."

Gibbs nodded, and sighed, glancing at the others scattered through the waiting room, "You know, I honestly thought the next time I would have made this trip, it would have been because Reagan needed me, to walk her down the aisle."

The comment was made almost absently, but Sam watched as the color leached from G's face, and he walk away. Gibbs glanced up, as Callen left, and lent a questioning look to Sam.

"He's had the ring for a number of months now. He's wanted to ask, but she's kept him at arm's length when it comes to that," Sam explained.

"She never thought she was meant for that kind of life. She still fears the monster inside," Gibbs offered him an answer to the ever daunting puzzle that was Reagan Faraday.

"He knows, and he's a very patient man. But now..." his voice trailed off.

Gibbs nodded, in understanding. He watched, as G moved back to pace, in front of the OR door.

"She would have never come back, if she didn't love him that much. He knows that. He wanted to give her time, to give her the space she needed," Sam went on.

"And now he's wondering why he didn't push harder," Gibbs finished.

Sam shook his head, "No, now he's wondering how to survive losing her, for the second time, in less than two years.

"When she disappeared, he was like a shell of himself. When he found her in that warehouse, so close to death, he fell apart. That's something I've never seen him do in all the time we've been partners. Even when Hetty was captured by the Comescu's, he kept it together. When Hunter was killed by The Chameleon, Marcel Janvier, he was as stoic as ever. But seeing Reagan like that, nearly did him in."

Sam was stopped short by the surgeon, walking out of the operating room door. He looked haggard. He had been in the OR with Reagan for 4 hours now, and it showed on his face. He looked around at the twelve worried faces and removed his mask.

"I need to speak with the next of kin," he spoke solemnly.

Hetty and Gibbs exchanged a glance and moved toward the doctor in unison, as if they had choreographed the steps. Callen followed close behind. As they stopped in front of the doctor, his sad green eyed glance landed upon each one of them.

"I'm Doctor Ethan Wilkinson, Head Surgeon here. I need your names, and relationship to Miss Faraday, before I give any information out about her condition," he wanted to make sure he covered his ass. It wasn't often he saw this many federal agents outside of a naval base. And for all of them to be here, the girl he had just operated on for the past 4 hours, must be someone important.

"I'm Senior NCIS Special Agent/Control Officer Leroy Jethro Gibbs. I'm Reagan's surrogate uncle, and was her guardian when she was a minor. This is Henrietta Lange, NCIS Operations Manager, and Reagan's current supervisor. She is also her next of kin if I cannot be reached," Gibbs introduced them both, as they produced their badges.

After shaking both of their hands, his glanced settled between them on Callen, who stood back a pace or two, "And you are?"

G opened his mouth, but was at a loss for words. What could he say? He didn't have the clout that either Gibbs or Hetty carried. I'm her friend, her lover? I'm the reason she's here? He had no idea how to answer the doctor's question. All he knew was that if the doctor didn't tell him how Reagan was immediately, he would shoot his way into recovery to find out himself.

"This is Senior Special Agent G Callen, Reagan's... fiancée," Gibbs announced to the doctor, as he studied Callen, standing behind him.

"How is Reagan?" Hetty finally asked the question they were all thinking.

The doctor looked down at the mask he fiddled with in his hands. He took a moment to compose his answer in his mind, before he looked back at their stricken faces. It was obvious that this young woman meant a lot to everyone in this waiting room, but especially to these three people.

"Miss Faraday is alive, but because of the extent of her injuries and loss of blood, she has slipped into a coma," he announced softly.

"Injuries? I thought it was a single gunshot wound?" Hetty asked, reaching for Callen's arm to steady herself.

G took her hand and guided her to a nearby chair. She had visibly paled, and he could feel the slight tremor in the hand, that rested within his.

"It was a single gunshot wound, but the bullet pierced her left lung, grazed the left ventricle of her heart, exited the body through the back, and a fragment came to rest against her spinal column," he tried to explain.

"Oh dear, God," Hetty whispered.

"What does all of that mean, Doctor?" Gibbs asked, trying to keep it together.

"It means we did the best we could. We were able to repair her lung and heart, and remove the bullet from her spine, but we do not know the extent of damage done to her spinal column or nerves. We lost her twice on the table, because of how much blood she had lost, but were able to bring her back and stabilize her. This could be her bodies way of healing itself, by shutting down all nonessential functions to repair the major damage. But we don't know when... or if... Miss Faraday will wake up.

"She has no will, so she obviously doesn't have a DNR. Do any of you know what her wishes would be?" he asked cautiously.

G shook his head, unable to understand the words the doctor was saying, "DNR?"

"Yes, 'do not resuscitate'. Many people have these as part of their will, because they do not want to be a burden on their families, if they need to be put on life support."

"Absolutely not! That is NOT an option!" G growled, looking from the doctor to Gibbs and Hetty.

"G, please. We will discuss this at a later time," Hetty spoke softly, "Right now she will remain as she is. When can we see her doctor?"

"She is in a private room as you requested. I can allow you three in, one at a time, for no more than five minutes each. But I cannot give clearance to anyone else."

"We understand, and thank you doctor. Can we see her now?" Gibbs finally found his voice.

"Yes, I'll walk you to her room," he nodded to Hetty and G, before he turned to walk Gibbs through the doors to Reagan's room in the ICU.

"I'll be back when your time is up. Feel free to talk to her. She may not seem like it, but she can hear you," the doctor reassured him, before he walked away.

Stepping into the room, Gibbs looked down at the body in the bed and didn't even try to blink back the tears that burned his eyes. She looked completely peaceful despite the tubes that were protruding from her. As if she would open her eyes and get up at any minute. His memory flashed back to the last time he had seen her in an ICU bed.

_He thanked the doctor before he opened the door to her room. The long window gave him enough of a view of her to cause him to pause. The dark hair was spread out on the white hospital pillow and tubes and wires were protruding from her arms and chest beneath her hospital gown and blankets. There were stitches across her forehead and white bandages binding her wrists. There were bright blossoms of color on her face from where her bruises were aging. Her chest rose and fell rhythmically as she breathed deeply in sleep. Her dusky lashes rested against waxen cheeks, barely concealing the dark smudges beneath her eyes._

_The sound of the door opening had her eyes fluttering open and she tried to push herself up to see who had entered. She was so weak her arms did not support her. He stood at the door for a moment before he walked the short distance to the side of her bed, looking down at her._

_"Do you ever follow directions?" he growled, trying to hide the fear in his voice behind a gruff exterior._

"I wish I could blame you again. I wish I could growl at you, knowing you would growl right back at me," he said, more to himself than to her as he pulled a chair to the side of the bed.

He sat down and took a deep breath before he continued, "I feel like I failed you, Rae. Like I should have been more aware, of just how exposed you would be. I had no idea just how far this went. None of us did. I would never have imagined this could have happened, after Reiss was out of the picture.."

"I'm sorry Rae, I'm so sorry."

He wept quietly, the tears flowing freely as he battled with his own demons. She was the only family he had left. She was his last link to that life, to those memories, and sitting here, looking at a future without her in it, was unfathomable to him. Even when she was living her life as an assassin, overseas, knowing that she was there, and very much alive made it all okay. But this... this was too much like when he had lost Shannon and Kelly, his wife and daughter, and then Jace and Lauren, her parents.

Gibbs had no idea how long he sat with her limp hand in his, the tears flowing down his cheeks and distant memories bombarding him, but when the door behind him opened he was not ready to leave. Wiping at his eyes with his thumb and index finger, he stood, only releasing her hand as he turned to the doctor behind him. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself to ask the question all of them wanted to know, but were afraid to ask.

"How long will she be like this?" he asked finally, with a shaky voice.

The doctor looked at him with sad eyes, and shook his head, "We don't know. It could be anywhere from a couple of days, to a couple of weeks, to a couple of months."

Nodding, he refrained from asking the final question because the answer just might destroy him. Following the doctor back to the waiting room, he stepped out to, be bombarded by questions from both teams, as Hetty headed back, following the doctor.

"I can only give you 5 minutes Ms. Lange. As I told Agent Gibbs, feel free to talk to her, she can hear you," the doctor said, as he opened the door to Reagan's private room.

Hetty nodded, taking a deep breath before she entered the dimly lit room. Her heart sank as she took in the young woman lying on the hospital bed. Moving next to the bed she stood for a moment, studying Reagan.

"Well my dear," she began with a sigh, looking around the room, "Here we are again."

She moved closer, and with her aging hand brushed a strand of hair from Reagan's forehead, "It seems to me, that you are not happy, without some kind of drama in your life," she tried to joke, but her laughter caught in her throat.

"Oh Reagan... if I had only known... If I had even thought, for one moment that you were in danger... Bugger... You would never have let any of us do anything. You would have disappeared again, because of some noble desire to protect us," she said sadly.

Taking Reagan's slender hand in her weathered one, she ran her thumb over the smooth skin on her knuckles. She studied the young woman, looking past the tubes and wires to her face. She was very pale. She must have lost a lot of blood, Hetty thought, for her to look like this. With her genetic makeup she should look better; she shouldn't have fallen into a coma. Perhaps, Hetty pondered, she had give up.

"So unlike you to just give up, Miss Faraday," Hetty spoke sternly, to the younger woman, "You have never been a quitter. You are made of sterner stuff than that. And I will not allow it. I am ordering you to get better, and don't you dare disobey my orders, my dear."

She refused to give in to the tears that pushed at the backs of her eyes and as she allowed her thoughts to drift, she sat silently holding the lifeless hand. She had lost track of time, and when the doctor came back for her she was slightly disoriented.

"Ms. Lange, should I call someone?" he asked, as Hetty leaned heavily on the arm of the chair to stand up.

"No," she admonished, waving away his hand, "Just make sure that Agent Callen get's to sit here with her."

Her frank gaze and un-brokered demand, didn't give the doctor a minute's pause. Even if he had wanted to deny the Special Agent access to the girl in the bed, which he didn't, he believed that this diminutive woman, and her stoic cohort would have him bound and gagged, or worse shot, if he didn't comply with their demands.

"I will bring him right in, once I get you back to the waiting room," he assured her, as they walked down the silent hall.

Coming through the doors back into the waiting room, Dr. Wilkinson motioned for Sam to come and lead Hetty to a chair. Once he had her seated, Nell came over with a cup of tea. Wrapping her freezing hands around the offered cup, Hetty held it to her lips.

"Tea in a bag... you can always taste the paper," she said absently.

"It's all they had," Nell offered, apologetically.

Hetty looked up at the pixie of a girl, and smiled sadly, "It's no matter. Thank you."

Nell put a hand on her mentor's shoulder, and glanced from Hetty, to the rest of the team, that had gathered around, for news of Reagan. The worried look they all exchanged was not missed by the diminutive woman.

"I assume you are all gathered around me for news of Miss Faraday?"

"How is she, Hetty?" Kensi asked softly, her hands knotted tightly in the sweatshirt she was holding.

"She is resting easily, but she is not responsive. There is really nothing else to tell," she looked around the group, "Where is Mr. Callen?"

The team collectively glanced at the doors that led to the ICU, and Reagan's room.

"Good," she pronounced, and took another sip of the offending tea.

_**Thank you all for reading, and those of you who have returned, for coming back. Please leave a little note and let me know what you think. I appreciate everyone of them and look forward to reading each! Much love to you all! xoxo_


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